Monday, February 23

Scripture: Matthew 14:25-32
And in the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, “It is a ghost!” and they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”

And Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased.

LORD SAVE ME!

Peter isn’t afraid of the wind and the waves, as long as he is in the boat. He and the disciples know how to handle their small vessel, even in difficult conditions. They trust each other. They are strong men. They’ve got this. They do this for a living. F-I-S-H-E-R-M-E-N.

Disciples (in terror): “Hey! What’s that out there? What’s that weird light? Eek! Aaauuugh! Help!”

What terrifies this capable cohort of 30-year-old fishers are G-H-O-S-T-S, the uncanny apparition just astern. That specter there—or is it the moonlight teasing the whitecaps?

Jesus: “Take heart.”

Disciples (all talking at the same time): “Wait.” “Oh phew!” “Did you hear that?” “It’s his voice.” “It’s Jesus.” “You had us for a minute there.” Murmurs. Deep breaths. “There’s nothing strange at all here.” “It’s just Jesus, walking there along top of the water.”

Disciples: “But wait!” “That’s impossible!” “Am I seeing things?” “Prove yourself!”

Peter (with bravado): “Lord, if it’s you, tell me and I’ll do that trick, too.”

Jesus: “Come.”

It was impulsive. It all happened so fast. Before anyone could stop him, Peter climbed out of the boat and walked over to Jesus on the water.

Musical Interlude: Click onto Fernando Ortega’s “Walking on the Water.” Notice that the song only covers the first part of the passage: Hearing Jesus call, putting trust in him, leaving the boat behind, walking on the water. Catchy refrain.

Peter off the boat, it turns out, is Peter out of his element. Suddenly, he notices the wind that has been blowing the whole time, and he’s afraid. It really has nothing to do with the wind, or the waves, or the dark. These things are familiar. They are not what he needs to be saved from.

Peter (desperate): “Lord, save me.”

Jesus: “Doubter! Why?

His hand grabs hold of Peter. No longer sinking, Peter is walking and talking with Jesus, on the water’s surface. They get into the boat.

Visual interlude: David Mach’s collage, “Jesus Walking on Water,” shows Peter sinking deeper than I’d imagined. It makes me afraid. Notice that the world below the sea is fuller and brighter than the world above. In the collage, the familiar and worn biblical narrative is above the water. Below the water is unnarrated, profound, bright depth. The source of light is unclear, but it’s focused right below Jesus. Exactly the thing that makes the beauty, the bursting, bright light below Jesus, is also the thing that makes me shudder—the awful, awesome, sublime beauty of the deep with Christ’s light piercing it. I want to look at the depths, but I can’t, and then I do anyway. Peter wants to walk as Jesus over the water, then he can’t, and then he does anyway.

What if Peter needed to be saved from the boat? From self-reliance and complacent safety? From the boat, Jesus looks like a ghost. Only when Peter has stepped off his safe boat and boldly walked with and as Jesus—no matter how impossible—can Peter say “Lord” with certainty.

And what if Jesus wants Peter to swim, and knows he can do it, but then has to rescue him from sinking instead? Faith is not about the visible, albeit miraculous trick of walking atop the water. Faith is about hearing Jesus, trusting, leaving behind our safety, walking with and as Jesus, and coming into the true light of deep union with him. What if the sea is supposed to be our element, and we could be like the bright, beautiful, creatures cavorting in his light.

PRAYER
LORD, When I’m going under, part the waters. When I feel the waves around me calm the sea. When I cry for help, oh, hear me Lord and hold out your hand. Touch my life, still the raging storm in me. And Savior, remove my fear of the depths. Bring me to the place where I can experience their fullness with you as my guide. Amen.

Amy Obrist, Interim Dean of Humanities and Social Sciences